“Abi, come. Put the diagrams away.” He rubbed his eyes and patted the bed.
Abigail lifted her head from the table and blushed. She walked over to the side of the bed and sat down stiffly. “Shall I deliver your latest psalms to Michal for her to copy?”
“Yes, yes. But come closer. I don’t bite.” He had kept his word and not approached Michal, only spying her at a distance when she worshipped at the tabernacle or went to the market. Cantankerous and unruly woman. He had many wives, he didn’t need her. She ought to know her place and stop intruding into his thoughts.
David beckoned at Abigail.
She shifted an inch, maybe two. “My lord.”
He pulled her down to his side. She gasped and fluttered her eyelids.
He chuckled. “Abi, we’ve been married how many years? More than ten?” And yet she blushed like a virgin. So unlike that seductive witch he had married when he was young and stupid. His loins tightened despite his thoughts.
He kissed Abigail behind her neck. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
He touched her gently and smoothed her thin brown hair, so soft and silky. David suppressed images of Michal, her neck open, her back arched toward him, and her hips tilted, so invitingly. Abigail’s tiny whimper reminded him to cool his ardor. He exhaled through pursed lips and cursed Michal silently.
He kissed Abigail’s cheeks. Brushing her lips lightly, he stroked her temple and planted another kiss, eliciting a miniscule indrawn breath. Remembering to keep his touch light, he put out the oil lamps and undressed her in the dark.
David fell asleep and dreamed. His head pounded, and his eyelids spasmed.
A man clawed her body and pressed between her legs.
David lunged and throttled him. My wife, my wife. You shall not touch my wife.
Michal scratched his face.
Michal. Love me, Michal.
He forced her lips open, grappled and held her hands above her head.
She bit his tongue and kicked him. I hate you, David. I despise you.
He grabbed her neck and shook the life out of her.
Shafts of sunlight speared his throbbing eyeballs.
“Michal, how you hurt me.” David covered his face. “Come back to me, Michal.”
He heard a sob, a soft sob, and opened his eyes. “Michal?”
Soft brown hair cascaded to her waist. Red marks encircled her neck. Abigail stared at him, her jaw quivered. She covered her throat. “You had a nightmare. You thought I was Michal.”
“I didn’t mean to.” He kissed her, but she deflated and withdrew. He recalled the ease and humor of the night before. He recalled what her first husband had done to her. And he recalled and tasted her fear.
“Abi, don’t be frightened of me. Don’t. Not after all we’ve been through.” It had taken him years to gain her trust. What had he done? Abigail shrank from his touch. Had he forced her? Treated her roughly? His head spun, and he moaned, “Abi, I’m sorry.”
Abigail pulled on her robe and ran out the chamber.
* * *
I opened the door and smiled. My seventeen year old sons Joshua and Beraiah stood there, one dark and muscular, the other slim and red-headed. They clambered in with their luggage and weapons. David had finally relented and allowed them to come back to Jerusalem to join the palace guards. I craned my neck to see if anyone was behind them. Butterfly wings tickled my heart.
Had Ittai also returned?
Joshua set his things down and looked around the small house. He immediately spied the rolled-up rug I had purchased before my exile and crouched beside it. “Mother, that’s a huge rug.”
“Can I open it?” Beraiah asked.
“Yes, make sure you roll it back. I don’t want it to get dirty.”
Naomi flipped her eyes back. “It’s a present for someone special.”
Beraiah smoothed his hand over the threads. “It’s beautiful, crimson red, the tree of life, a pomegranate border with partridges. I bet King David will like it.”
Joshua traced the outline of the tree. “Would you like us to deliver it?”
“Hold on, boys. Who said anything about it being for David?” I grimaced as Naomi suppressed a twitter. “Actually, I was wondering about Ittai. Is he coming back to Jerusalem?”
A shadow with the scent of fresh bay leaves fell over me. “Did I hear my name?”
Naomi quickly excused herself to buy food.
Joshua and Beraiah jumped to attention. “Commander.”
Ittai handed them silver coins. “You boys run along and get something to eat.”
They thanked him and scurried out the door.
“So, what’s this I hear about a gift for your king?” he said.
Fanning myself, I turned from his cheeky grin. “Let me gift this rug to you as a welcome back present.”
He turned me to face him. “Forget the rug. I want you.”
My lips quivered. His dreamy eyes made me soft and syrupy inside. He could not have been more handsome. His strong jaw rugged, his face chiseled and masculine, the curl of his upper lip suggested wicked pleasures. His warm male scent permeated my resolve, and I let him draw close and kiss me.
My heart responded like flower petals in a light breeze. How long had it been since a man kissed me? I shuddered to count. Warm tingles traversed my shoulders and down my belly.
But when he touched my breast, I pushed back. “I can’t commit sins.”
He let me go a little too abruptly and covered a scowl with a grin. “Deny me now, but you can’t stop me from loving you, or trying again.”
“You tempt me.” My voice lowered. “So, has your wish come true yet? The one you made on the wishing tree?”
His eyes twinkled. “Has yours?”
“It was long ago.” I gave him a sidelong glance. “You tell me.”
He crossed his arms. “How am I to tell you if you haven’t told me what your wish was?”
“I’m thinking you might have some information.”
“I’ve not a clue unless you tell me what you wished for.”
I tapped his shoulder. “Tell me what you wished for first. Go ahead.”
His amused smirk infuriated me. “I can already tell it hasn’t come true. So sorry. You’ll get no more information from me.”
“You stinker.” I punched his bicep.
“Call me whatever names you want. I’m still not telling you. But perhaps…” He licked his lips suggestively.
“No.”
He wagged his tongue. “Not even a chaste kiss?”
A bubble of amusement tickled my throat, and I sputtered, “Chaste kiss? Is there such a thing?”
He palmed my face with both hands. “Try me and decide.” He lowered his face to mine. His minty breath and palpable heat allured and aroused me, raising the hair on the back of my scalp and dampening my inner thighs dangerously.
“Just keep it chaste,” I murmured. And our lips touched, like a thread of a whisper, a single silk of a spider’s web, and the tiny prickles of a tart persimmon. The hairs of his mustache brushed my upper lip, and the puffs of my breath panted on his beard. A kiss as soft as the belly of a newborn babe, as light as the fur of a baby bunny, as pious as the flurry of angel wings awakened every deep sense and emotion I had dammed behind the wall of righteousness.
“Was that good?” Ittai asked when the long moment faded.
“Oh, yes.” Tears sprinkled my eyelashes. “Why are you so good to me? Sometimes I don’t think you’re real, but someone I conjured.”
He stroked my face. “Oh, I’m real. But I’ve learned not to have expectations.”
“Why is that?” I peered into his deep, dark eyes.
“Expectations cause disappointment.”
“Do I disappoint you?”
“No, because I have no expectations.”
I fingered his beard. “How sad.”
“No, not sad. Just realistic. Do you think I can stand loving you all these y
ears if I expected anything of you?” His voice caught and stumbled with obvious disappointment.
I tapped the tip of his nose. “No, but something is missing when you don’t expect anything.”
“Yes, what’s missing is disappointment.”
“No, not just disappointment.” I paused, trying to frame my thoughts. “What’s missing is something deeper, more intense.”
“More fearful, yes. But intolerable. So I take what life gives me and try to be satisfied.” He forced a smile, but his eyebrows lowered.
I flicked a burr off his shoulder. “You’re aiming too low. If I were like you, I’d forget about David, while away my hours painting my fingernails and sunning myself on the roof.”
“Haven’t you been doing just that?” Ittai’s gaze swept the room. “Or have you also become one of the scribes?”
“I’ve been doing both. Sunning myself makes me feel peaceful and calm.” I held out my arm and showed him my tan. “And copying scripture makes me feel one with the LORD.” I patted Jonathan’s leather sleeve, the one he had always worn at his side when going to war. It contained the scripture he used to read to me.
I stepped toward the door. “Come. Let’s sun ourselves on the roof. There’s a nice breeze up there, and when I close my eyes, I can almost hear Delilah sing.”
* * *
Ittai and Michal lay on leather couches on top of her roof, unaware that King David watched them. They joined their voices and sang the songs of Samson and Delilah. They touched not the hand, nor gazed with the eye. The threads of their song rose, twined and wove together, mating in the air like smoky traces through a desert sunset.
* * *
The chill of the evening descended, but my smile did not fade. My youngest sons were back, and Ittai had gone with them to find lodging. A soft knocking on the door drew my attention. I looked up from my writing desk and rubbed my wrist. Ittai had left his cloak. I put down my reed and picked up his cloak, bringing it to my nose before opening the door.
Abigail stepped through the threshold with a manservant. I clasped my throat, then recovered and kissed her on both cheeks. “What a surprise. Come in.”
She kissed me. “I heard your twins are back. What great news.”
“Yes, nothing could make me happier. So, what brings you here?”
“David has written another series of worship psalms for the temple.” She motioned for the servant to set down a stack of parchment. “Of course, he only trusts you to transcribe them and copy them with your pretty script.”
“I’m the only one who can read his scribbles.” I waved my hand. “How’s Chileab? You should bring him more often. I love his harp playing.”
She dismissed her servant after he loaded the stack of completed scrolls into a cart. Her eyes flickered, and she trembled. Naomi took her sandals to wash her feet while I placed fruit, bread and wine on the table. She clutched her shawl over her breast and stared at the top of Naomi’s head.
“Abi? Are you well?” Usually, she exuded cheer and had many uplifting stories to tell.
“Give me a few minutes.” She hugged her elbows and took several deep breaths. When Naomi dried her feet, she thanked her with a kiss and turned to me. “How do you like it outside the palace?”
I swirled the wine goblet and sipped. “It’s peaceful, and I definitely don’t miss all the tension. Now that my youngest two are back, things couldn’t be better.”
She fiddled with an almond date roll. “I’m wondering if David will let me and Chileab leave the palace?”
“You mean to your estate in Carmel?”
“No, he won’t allow it. But perhaps I can get the house next to you. I’m tired of judging the disputes in his harem.”
I winced. The harem remained a sore spot even though I had long ago disavowed any claim to David’s time or affection. “Does it bother you… to share him with so many?”
“Why, no.” She stared at me. “I’ve always known he had other wives. It honestly lightens the load. What I meant is the bickering amongst them. Maacah can be a real pain, and the new ones each pride themselves on their fathers’ prestige. Ahinoam tears her hair out trying to find suitable accoutrements for each new princess or… excuse me… I know you don’t care to hear.”
She pursed her lips, looking as if she were about to cry.
“Something else is bothering you,” I said.
She lifted her head, and her shawl dropped. She tried to cover the red marks on her neck, but I was faster.
I grabbed her wrist. “What’s happened? Who did this to you?”
Tears bubbled from her eyes.
“David? He hurt you?”
“He didn’t mean to. He was having a nightmare.”
“That’s no excuse. Has he hurt anyone else?”
“I don’t know, although I’ve sensed a chill among the other women. It started after he returned from the wars.”
A sense of dread pinched my throat. “You told me he was excited about building the LORD a temple. What went wrong?”
She wiped her eyes. “I don’t know. He’s obsessed with the temple. I’m afraid he’s headed for a fall. Michal, what if the LORD will not allow it?”
I pressed her hand. “For his sake I hope this will not be so. You’re trembling.”
“I was so afraid, and he was so strong. Maybe you can help him. It seems as if he were reaching for you.”
My heart flipped. “Me?”
“Yes, he called your name.” She gripped my arm. “He said you had hurt him. And… he cried for you.”
David. An avalanche rumbled through my soul and threatened the barrier I had built during my years of solitude. I slumped forward and rubbed my eyes. “No, Abigail. Don’t bring this back to me.”
Her lips thinned. “You cannot stand by and do nothing. The king needs to be strong and in control at all times. He is ruler of Israel. If he needs you, you must go to him. Would you want Israel weakened?”
She left me with my head in my hands, the pulse rushing through my ears, and my heart squeezing sludge through my veins. I unrolled David’s prayer book with heavy hands.
I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim: I water my couch with my tears. A powerful fist punched my heart, releasing an enormous flood of anguish and yearning. How alike we two were. Me and David. David and I.
I stretch forth my hands unto thee: my soul thirsteth after thee, as a thirsty land. Selah. Shooting pains traveled from my heart to my fingertips. I collapsed on my bed. I needed David as much as he needed me.
* * *
David beheld his beautiful eleven-year-old daughter as she walked around the room with a tray of sweets. Her adorable smile warmed his heart. “Tamar, that was delicious.”
She put another tart in his mouth. “I made it myself. I milked the goat, took the honey out of the comb, milled the wheat and gathered the nuts.”
Today was her birthday. Ithream would have been eleven, too, had he lived. David’s heart clenched at the memory, and he hugged Tamar a little longer than usual. “Happy birthday, daughter. I love you.”
Her mother, Maacah, handed her an embroidered sack. “Open it.”
Tamar revealed the gift, a bridal veil. David shot up in his seat. “Wait, I have no intention of marrying off my jewel so early. This will have to wait at least five more years.”
Maacah slipped an arm around his neck. “My thoughts exactly. You are ever so wise, my lord.”
After all the presents were opened, Chileab strummed his harp and sang a psalm he had composed. David couldn’t help but be amused at Absalom’s impatience. He tossed his hair and rolled his eyes about at every chord. Adonijah and Shephatiah traded elbows and pinches while Abital, his sixth wife, played with her white bird, Beulah.
His first born son, Amnon, sat sullenly next to his mother, the equally sullen Ahinoam. Her adopted daughter, Sarah, played on the floor with Maacah’s kitten, a grey with brown patches. The kitten’s ears were sharp and pointy, and she s
watted playfully at a skein of wool. She rolled onto her back under David’s legs. Large green eyes stared at him. David’s heart twisted, and he turned away.
Chileab tilted his head back and sang loudly of God’s glories. Beulah, the white bird, did not want to be upstaged. She screeched even louder, bobbed her head, and flapped her wings, her saucer eyes rolling as she flopped her yellow-crested head upside down from one side to the other. Everyone laughed except for Abigail. Her gaze was trained on her son.
David peeled Maacah’s arms from his neck and put a hand on Abigail’s shoulder. “You should be so proud. Chileab sang marvelously.” She flinched but covered it with a warm smile.
A high-pitched shriek followed by laughter drew his attention back to Maacah. Abital’s bird had landed in Maacah’s puffed-up hair, and her claws were hopelessly tangled. The bird flapped her wings, shaking feather dust and white down all over Maacah. She swatted at the bird while Abital tried to extricate her.
Beulah screamed with a deafening shriek, “Bad Maacah. Bad Maacah.” She was a jungle bird, extremely expensive and extremely loud, from the isles in the eastern seas past India.
David roared with laughter.
The bird safely back in Abital’s hands, Maacah clutched her robe and glared at Beulah. She shrieked back, “It’s supposed to be ‘Bad Michal,’ you stupid bird.” She ran her fingers through her hair, tangled with a mess of feathers and bits of fluff, and huffed from the room.
David shook his head at the departing circus and went across the room to Ahinoam. A distant look in her eyes, she appeared not to have witnessed the scene. He took her hand and pressed it. “I shall see you later this evening.”
* * *
Ahinoam welcomed David at her door. She was his second wife, earthy, solid and voluptuous—a quiet one, not given to words. She led him straight into her bedchamber. Amnon stayed in his room, and her little girl had already gone to sleep.
Without a word she cupped both hands around his face and pulled him in for a kiss. David ran his fingers straight through her hair, smooth and silky. He pulled her dress off, and she undressed him. They tumbled on the bed, and she received him immediately.
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